


Breathe Easy

by legendofthesevenstars



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: First Meetings, Gen, Identity, Illustrations, Mentors, Mid-Canon, Responsibility, Stress, Swordfighting, Vacation, Verdant Wind Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2021-01-22 15:34:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21304415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/legendofthesevenstars/pseuds/legendofthesevenstars
Summary: In 1183, the war between the Empire and the Kingdom reaches a temporary stalemate, while the Leicester Alliance is consumed by internal conflict. Deprived of his classmates, professor, mentors, and family, the young Duke Riegan, only two years into his reign as Leader of the Alliance, begins to collapse under the weight of his position. His parents, unaware of his internal struggle but concerned for his safety, send his childhood mentor Nader to check on him.It would have been an uneventful, but appreciated, reunion. Except that Claude sees an opportunity for a scheme. And he takes it.
Relationships: Claude von Riegan & Judith von Daphnel, Claude von Riegan & Nader (Fire Emblem)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 69





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I commissioned my friend [labeckinator](/users/labeckinator) to illustrate a scene in Chapter 3 for me!! <3 You can find her under the same username on twitter, tumblr, and dA!

The smell of death, a smell inextricably linked with the looming threat of responsibility, still lingered like a fog in Duke Riegan’s room. Merely a year after Edelgard’s assault on Garreg Mach brought an abrupt end to Claude’s Academy career, the old man had expired, leaving Claude alone to inherit leadership of the Leicester Alliance.

Claude had cried nearly all of his tears in his childhood, when he had not yet understood the cruelties of the world. His father had comforted him sincerely but awkwardly, and his mother had told him to harden his heart and face reality. Now, he stood at his grandparents’ and uncle’s graves after the funeral, Failnaught heavy in his shaky hands, tears rolling down his cheeks.

Truthfully, Claude had never been particularly close to his grandfather or to his uncle. When Claude had first showed up at his mother’s ancestral home after a carefully planned journey, he had been taken in, sure, but begrudgingly so. Godfrey, sickly and deemed unfit for leadership by his father, immediately grew jealous of Claude, offended, it seemed, by his nephew’s very existence. Though Claude’s grandfather did not hold Claude to the same high standard of behavior, Claude never felt very much love from him either.

Claude wanted to use his lineage to change things in Fódlan, so eventually, he needed to become the Duke and serve as the Leader of the Alliance. But everything had happened far more quickly than he’d expected. Before he knew about his family’s poor health, he’d assumed he’d need to wait until after his grandfather died of old age, and until his uncle went into retirement, and then he’d be named the heir. But, after Godfrey’s early death from a collapsed lung caused by traumatic injury, and Grandpa being claimed by consumption, the tables had rapidly turned in his favor.

Standing here, wearing Godfrey’s Alliance jacket, Failnaught glowing in his hands, he felt a suffocating weight on his shoulders. Grandpa’s last piece of advice had been to disregard politics and pay attention to people. For the past few months, Claude had gone to the Roundtable meetings in place of his ailing grandfather. Though he could no longer ask Grandpa for advice, there were binders and binders of meeting minutes gathering dust in his grandfather’s study, and tomes upon tomes of Alliance history to reference in the library.

But Grandpa was right—it all came down to the people, who were incredibly disagreeable. Not only did they glare at him, talk down to him, and challenge his decisions—a lack of faith his grandfather had never had to face—they were constantly attacking each other’s opinions and beliefs. He had to try and keep the peace, letting each lord speak his own mind and attempting to reconcile the opposing points of view by coming to a compromise.

The Alliance being torn apart, and Claude trying to sew it back together, was grim reality, as real as Failnaught pulsing in his hands. The mansion no longer had three Riegans in it—now there was only one, standing by himself, and he felt so sick to his stomach. He wanted to retreat back to the easy days at the monastery or at Judith’s, return to his childhood sitting at a table in another country. But he was not that boy anymore, no matter how small he felt in the big, big world.

His mother would tell him, “chin up.” So he obeyed her, and pressed on for two more years.

—

A stack of papers falling from his desk and onto the floor with a thump awoke Claude. He yawned loudly, leaning over the side of the bed to pick up the book he’d dropped on the floor last night after he’d fallen asleep reading. It was probably the best he’d slept in weeks. Now that Roundtable meetings happened weekly, he was swamped with all kinds of correspondence, and he often stayed up late, not because he had work to do, but because his mind had a lot of questions to ponder and a lot of decisions to doubt.

Thankfully, the current stalemate between the Empire and Kingdom had given him a break. He was just about to flip to the next chapter in his book, when there was a knock at his door. Groaning dramatically, he got to his feet, walked to the door, and asked, “What is it?”

“Someone’s here to see you, Duke Riegan.”

“I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

He washed his face, staring at his half-grown out, choppy hair in the mirror for a moment before deciding to just let it down in all its awkwardness, then dressed quickly and went out to the front door. He peered through the peephole first and—

No way.

Was that really—? Or was he seeing things? Something he’d eaten hadn’t sat right with him, or he was beyond tired. What was he even going to say? He hadn’t seen him in _years_. How had the guy even gotten here? He’d made it across the border and through Alliance territory, all the way here? No, this had to be a dream.

He took a breath and opened the door.

Nader smiled. “Hey, it is Claude. I was worried I took the wrong road for a moment.”

Claude blinked. His mentor’s voice sounded so foreign, yet so familiar. Hearing his name, a greeting, and the cadence of speech in their shared language awakened memories long dormant. Had it really only been eight years? It seemed like a lifetime had passed since then.

“I have a lot of questions,” Claude began, dusting off his Almyran, “but first—”

He threw his body at his old mentor, embracing him tightly.

—

Once Claude had wiped away his tears, he led Nader inside. The maid took his bag—which was packed full, and likely held more than just clothes and necessities—and Claude showed him to the sitting room after putting on tea.

Claude folded his arms and faced Nader. Lowering his voice, he asked, “All right, _how_ did you get here?”

Nader shrugged. “By walking. I made the journey on foot. Did you think I flew here? I may have all the common sense of a brick, but I’m not _that_ dumb.”

“What I meant was, how did you get here _without_ running into Holst or anyone in House Goneril?”

“Oh, I just crossed the mountains.”

Claude’s eyes widened. “You crossed Fódlan’s Throat by yourself? On foot?”

“I couldn’t have done it by myself, so I got a little help from your mother. Her Majesty was stationed in Fódlan’s Throat when she served in the Alliance military, you know, so she knows the terrain, the wildlife, and the conditions well. She mapped out my whole route, and prepared for any possible pitfalls.

“And as for avoiding the nobles, well, I’m actually pretty good at sneaking around. Any first-rate general, and especially one who wields a bow, wouldn’t be first-rate if he didn’t know how to go undetected. Right?”

Nader trying to be stealthy was a hilariously absurd concept. But knowing how dangerous the journey might have been, Claude had no reason to laugh about it. Instead, he shook his head. “I can’t believe you made it unscathed.”

“I had to. Your parents were worried sick, and they figured it was better to send someone rather than no one.”

Claude smiled. Nader was no substitute for his parents, but it was nice to at least see _someone_ from home.

“Speaking of which, His Majesty told me to give this to you.” Nader slapped him on the back and pulled him into a firm hug.

“And this is from the Queen.” He gave him another hug, not any gentler, and kissed his cheek.

“Bleah!” Claude wiped his cheek with the back of his hand, grimacing. “Ugh, are you gonna ruffle my hair too?”

Nader laughed his scratchy, loud laugh. It had never grated on Claude’s ears before. He’d been used to that loud, abrasive voice as a child, but it, like so many things from his childhood, had become a faraway memory.

“Hey, don’t shoot the messenger. In their minds, you’re still their little boy. Even if that little boy’s starting to grow a beard.”

Claude’s hand reflexively went to his chin. “How are they, really?”

“They’re fine, though they’ve missed you a lot. It’s taken a real toll on them, not being able to watch you grow up. Now that war’s broken out, they’re especially worried. That’s why they wanted me to come check up on you.

“So how are you? There’s a lot we have to catch up on, kiddo.” He smacked Claude’s shoulder. “Man, you’ve really done some growing. Your dad’s gonna have to start looking up to talk to you.”

“I owe my mom’s side of the family. She saved me from being shorter than you.”

“True, true. But, actually”—he paused for a moment, and his expression fell—“I didn’t mean that kind of growing. You’ve got a look in your eyes that says you’ve been through a lot. How many years has it even been?”

“Eight.” He never had to guess; he remembered nearly every detail of the day he’d run away from home clearer than anything else in his life. He had hoped to find freedom from the wicked mistreatment he’d endured. But people in Fódlan were just as venomous in their hatred, only that they usually disguised it in whispers and poisons.

“That long? What did you do all that time?”

“Mostly, I was playing catch-up. Learned how to be a proper noble. Read a ton of books. Kept up with the bow and axe and started learning the sword. Things picked up three years ago, when I went to school at Garreg Mach Monastery. It’s in central Fódlan, not far from here.”

“I bet you have a lot of fun stories from school. Bring that tea in and I’ll sit and listen.”

Claude poured them each a cup, then they retired to the sitting room, and he filled Nader in on the year he’d spent at the Officers’ Academy. He mentioned the Golden Deer, and touched on the strange tension between Edelgard and Dimitri. He explained Teach’s unique role in the occurrences, including Jeralt’s murder, the Sword of the Creator, and the change from blue to green hair and eyes.

When Claude had wrapped up his tale, Nader sat in stunned silence for a moment before he said, “Wow, kiddo. You’ve got one strange professor. Were your classmates just as weird?”

“Yeah, everyone was a bit odd there,” he admitted, not without fondness. He’d felt something like kinship to everyone’s idiosyncrasies, especially those of his housemates and professor. It had given him hope that he wasn’t the only “weirdo.”

“So what happened after you got home? After your classmate—help me out here—”

“Edelgard?”

“Yes, that’s it—after Miss Edelgard declared war on the church? You’re sitting here, so obviously the Alliance hasn’t gotten involved yet.”

“It’s a complicated situation. The nobles are still airing grievances they had before my grandfather’s death, and I have the job of trying to sort those out now. It’s further complicated by the war, since everyone’s trying to get me to take sides. Pretty great inheritance, huh? Makes me wish he would have lasted a little longer, if only for my own sanity.”

“That’s cold. You spent all that time with your grandpa, and that’s all you have to say about his death?”

“It’s not as if I hated him. We got along well enough, but I’m not torn up about it.”

“Don’t fib, kiddo. You know I can tell best of all when you’re lying.”

Debatable, but then, Nader hadn’t met Judith. “I might have shed a few tears at the funeral.”

“That’s more like it. What would I have had to tell your mother? ‘Oh, no, Your Majesty, he didn’t care at all when your father died. He shrugged it off and kept going.’”

Claude smiled slightly, knowing she’d probably praise him for gathering himself and moving on quickly.

“His death isn’t the main reason I was… emotional at his funeral.” Claude sighed, pausing for a moment to collect himself. “Can I speak my mind about something?”

“You don’t have to ask to be honest. Do you think I’d judge you?”

“No, I know you wouldn’t.” He paused again, then said, “I don’t think I’m cut out for this.”

“For what?”

“This whole ‘leading a country’ thing. I know that I look so much older and more mature, but I don’t feel that way.”

Nader’s smile didn’t fade, though Claude could see a little confusion in his eyes. “Is it wreaking that much havoc on you?”

“Where do I begin?” Claude leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “I’m either attending a meeting, or I’m planning the next one. I’m always worrying about possible invasions, so I have to watch the borders on all sides. But at the same time, I need to keep peace between the lords that side with the Empire and those who side with the church. And because everyone’s fighting internally and externally, no one can agree on solutions to anything.

“And in the rare moments when I actually do have time for myself, I’m so tired of thinking about war that I never spend any time training. You know what I do? I sit around and eat and read. All I do is eat and read and read and eat, and now I’m so out of shape it’s not even funny. And there’s no one I can talk to. My friends are all busy at home, or at least I’m so busy that I just assume they are, too, and Judith’s probably busy with affairs in her territory…”

He sputtered on the last word, his breath growing short with his rant. Pausing to catch his breath, he continued, “I just feel like I don’t belong here, which is awful, but I don’t feel like it’s time to go home either!”

“_Claude_. Stop.”

Nader’s stern tone, and the fact that he’d used his name instead of calling him a kid, made Claude flinch. He looked up to meet his mentor’s eyes.

“Breathe.”

Claude breathed slowly, in and out.

“Again. Close your eyes and relax.”

He took another deep breath in and out, closing his eyes. The room fell silent until all he could hear was their breaths and a bird chirping from outside.

“Block everything out. Focus on your breathing.”

Claude concentrated, burying himself in his mind.

A minute passed before Nader said, “Now, isn’t that better?”

Claude opened his eyes, slightly startled.

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s better. I’m sorry, I almost never get worked up like that. It just kind of came out.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for. You just went a little too fast for my slow brain.” He tapped the side of his head with a wink. “Take some deep breaths, and then explain it to me again. Slower, so that I can get caught up to speed.”

“Where do you want me to start?”

“Start from the beginning. Tell me how you got to be the head of the Alliance.”

“When I first arrived, my grandpa and uncle were living together. I think my grandma had been gone for a while. My grandpa was leading the Alliance, and my uncle was the heir in place of my mom.

“At first, they didn’t think I was legitimate. It was only when they saw my Crest, which is passed down through our bloodline, that I was named heir.”

“What about your uncle?”

“He passed away the year before I went to school. So that’s when I was officially appointed as his successor.”

“You lost your grandpa and your uncle within two years of each other? And your mom doesn’t have any other family members?”

“No.”

“And it was all because of your Crest?”

“Having a Crest is everything in Fódlan. If I hadn’t been born with one, I wouldn’t have had the experiences I did. But even though I had a Crest…” He frowned. “People still walked all over me for ‘stealing’ my uncle’s position as heir. And because I didn’t look like someone from Fódlan, I got called all kinds of names. I was less than human in their eyes.”

Nader scowled. “Cowards. I ought to…”

Claude tensed. “It’s not any different from what I heard in Almyra. In fact, it’s _nothing_ new. It’s just in another language.”

Nader’s expression relaxed. He sat up, folding his arms, looking upward in thought.

“I never understood why you ran away. But now I think I get it. Not that I could understand fully, but I at least get your reasoning.”

“I thought I’d have a different experience in Fódlan.”

“And you just got disappointed.”

“No. Not completely. I’m disappointed with the way people who don’t fit in are treated. But I guess it hasn’t been completely terrible.”

“That’s what I thought just looking at you. You’re wearing Fódlan clothes, for one. You have short hair and no braids in it.”

Claude’s hand went to his hair. Last week while he’d been looking at his reflection, the longer hair, the patchy stubble along his jaw, and the fact that he was gaining weight had reminded him of his father, so he’d cut his hair himself.

“It’s funny, too, when you speak. You’ve got a bit of an accent.”

“Do I?” He’d never had that pointed out to him in Fódlan. He’d grown up speaking both languages, though the Fódlan he’d only spoken in private with his mother. Years of not speaking Almyran except in his head and his dreams meant that speaking it out loud was like polishing the most rusted axe in the armory.

“Yes. It seems like you’ve gotten used to Fódlan.”

“I certainly hope so, since I plan on staying here a little while longer.”

“What about coming home?”

“As long as my parents are in good health and safe, I don’t want to go home until I’ve accomplished what I want to.”

“You’re more confident about the whole thing than you give yourself credit for.”

“Not really.”

“Come on, where’s your conviction?”

“It’s just—if I go home, I’m not going to want to come back.”

“Do you want to come back with me?” Nader’s gaze was earnest; he hadn’t asked the question in jest.

“No, but how long can you stay?”

“Not any longer than five days. I’ve still got business back home.”

“Five days…” Claude folded his arms. “That should be enough time. I’ll send a letter to her this afternoon.”

“Who’s that?”

“Judith. She’s been my swordmaster since I was thirteen. Is the name familiar?”

Nader shook his head. “That’s the first I ever heard of anyone with that name.”

“That’s encouraging.” Judith was a veteran of the previous war between the Alliance and Almyra, but what Nader said meant she probably hadn’t served at Fódlan’s Locket and likely wouldn’t recognize him. “Now, can you come up with a fake name?”

“I’m not good at that kind of thing. Can’t you give me a Fódlan name or something?”

“Why, what was your idea?”

“Uh… how about ‘Nardel’?”

Claude groaned. “Nader, that’s _terrible_. You really think she’s gonna buy that, let alone anyone?”

“I don’t know, it’s easy to remember. You’ll be less likely to slip and call me Nader by accident.”

“Point taken. Next step would be to get the braid out of your hair and get you some actual Fódlan clothes. And how well can you speak Fódlan?”

“I could’ve been speaking it this whole time,” Nader replied in Fódlan.

Claude nodded. “Thought so.” He seemed to remember Nader and his mother having exchanged words in Fódlan before. “I think this is going to work. I’ll just need a little more time this afternoon to figure out all the places we have to be, when we have to be there, and how we’ll get there.”

“What in the world are you planning? Don’t I get to rest after that journey?”

“Oh, you’ll get to rest. We’ll spend the first day here. It wouldn’t be much of a visit if I didn’t show you the capital. But then we’ll have to get going. It’s half a day’s journey to Judith’s on horseback, but we’ll still have to make the best use of our time possible.”

Nader grinned. “As soon as you figured out you’d have just enough time to go on a trip, you cheered right up.”

“What can I say? I like planning things.”

Life had been unpredictable lately. If he could plan this much, and if everything worked out like it was supposed to, then he could at least be satisfied knowing he could make one thing go right.


	2. Chapter 2

Claude had the servants prepare a room for Nader, told them that he was visiting from a nearby village, and warned Nader to refrain from speaking Almyran lest the staff overhear. After sending the notice to Judith, he drafted an outline for the trip and listed what he needed to pack. He showed Nader to the armory so he could go outside to train while Claude ran errands in town. After he came back, he was deciding which books to take (he only had space for two) when he noticed Failnaught in the corner of his bedroom. He thought about Grandpa, and sat on the edge of his bed, head in his hands.

This was all so ridiculous. What was he thinking running away from responsibility like this? Even if it was just a few days, anything could happen. What if the Empire mounted to invade at Myrddin? What if word got out that he’d left his territory and his ancestral home completely unattended in the interest of a stupid little self-indulgent experiment? The Empire and the Kingdom were waging war against each other with weapons, while the Alliance waged war internally with words. If the Alliance wasn’t willing to brandish weapons in the event of an invasion, it would wilt.

Still, he couldn’t bear backing out on a plan he’d already started crafting. If he could get his two mentors acquainted now, that would make a lot of things easier later. It was a gamble, but he _had_ to make it work. Not just for himself, but for the futures of the Alliance and Almyra. It was a calculated risk, not just useless fooling around. He had to make the most of Nader’s short time in the Alliance.

His mentor had his own plans, too. Claude was awoken early the next morning. He got to his feet, bleary-eyed, opened his bedroom door, and was handed an axe.

“Why don’t we get in some exercise?”

“Aw, come on, I just woke up!”

“That’s no excuse. A warrior’s day can begin at any time. Eat your breakfast and get out there!”

The years had not dulled the powerful blows against which Claude couldn’t have hoped to push back when he was young, awkward, and growing into himself. Nader’s raw strength contrasted heavily with Judith’s skillful, swift style. Claude had grown accustomed to combating and mimicking her, but he now recognized how he continued to work elements of Nader’s directness into his strokes, even though it had been years since he’d trained with Nader.

After lunch, Claude changed into a disguise, and explained that he had to put his plan into motion.

“It’s time for the grand tour of Derdriu.”

The flat dirt road turned into a paved path, leading to the bridge over the river and into town. Half-timbered houses, market stalls, and cobblestone streets spread out before them, the air rich with the tang of salt. Claude breathed in. Every time he was in Derdriu, he couldn’t help but remember his first visit. He’d sneezed after one whiff of the air, and, only having read about the ocean in books, he’d thought he was allergic to the saltwater. Even now that the scent was so familiar, it was still potent enough to intoxicate him every time.

He turned to face Nader. “So, welcome to Derdriu, capital of the Alliance. What do you think?”

Nader was turning his head all around, like he wasn’t sure where to look. “It’s completely different from what I thought a city in the Alliance might look like. But I don’t know what I was expecting in the first place.”

“Is it a good different or a bad different?”

“I don’t know. That smell makes my nose itch, though. Smells like… fish?” He frowned.

“Oh, right. We never really had seafood at home, did we?”

“No, you’d have to go out to the coast to get that. In all my years, I never bothered. Doesn’t mean I’m not going to start.”

Claude winked. “I knew you’d want to try some. There’s a great restaurant in the center of town that serves seafood.”

“Do they have beer? They better.”

“But of course. They heard you were coming.”

Nader laughed, a wide grin spreading across his face. “Oh, good. Let’s go.”

“Not so fast. It doesn’t open until dusk.” Seeing a groan coming on, he followed it up with, “There’s plenty to do until then, and I’ve planned it all out so that we’ll beat the crowds.”

“Hey, it’s your city, kiddo. Take the reins.”

“All right. Then we’ll head to the markets first.”

“Lead the way.”

—

Though it was the middle of the week, there was no shortage of people milling about the market. Nader looked like his eyes might pop out of his head; he’d probably never even seen that many people from Fódlan on the battlefield. Instead of people-watching, Claude turned his eyes toward the stands. Spices, fabric, tea, books, jewelry, perfume, clothing, artwork, instruments, weapons—here one could see, smell, hear, and taste the best of the Alliance.

Receiving imports from the Kingdom and Empire had become difficult. He had not officially embargoed trade with either country, but if the Alliance continued trading with the Kingdom, the Empire was likely to see the Alliance as an enemy, and vice versa. Count Gloucester and certain other lords were pressuring him to make a decision in that regard. Not to mention the Empire, in its current position, could easily cut off trade routes with the Kingdom by advancing on Galatea territory. And then there was the problem of Myrddin…

His thoughts were interrupted by Nader patting his shoulder repeatedly. “Hey, kiddo, look!”

Claude blinked. “What? What am I looking at?”

Nader pointed to a rack of swords at a blacksmith’s stand. “These beauties. Come on, let’s check ’em out.”

Claude greeted the merchant, and his eye was caught by the shiny silver throwing axe on the table. Nader inspected the swords, while Claude examined all the axes. The merchant allowed them to pick up the weapons and lift them in their hands. Claude didn’t find anything he was interested in, but Nader ended up buying a fine rapier. It wasn’t that he’d never seen one, more that fencing was unpopular in Almyra. It would also help him blend in, to an extent.

As they walked, Claude took deep breaths in through his nose. Delicious smells mingled in the air—mellow tea and robust coffee, soup, pastries, smoked meat, fish. Since it was early spring, the air was a little cold, particularly because the sun had begun to disappear behind gray clouds.

“Aren’t you cold?” Nader asked.

Claude looked over to his left. Though he was wearing a long-sleeved shirt and a jacket, Nader was hugging his arms to his body.

“Weather like this is considered lovely around here. You’re not used to having the sun out.”

“Not my idea of a nice day.”

Claude shrugged. “It’ll be warm in the restaurant this evening, with all the people and the hot food. Just wait ’til you see the gratin.”

“What’s a gratin?”

“A gratin is a dish made in the oven covered with cheese. It’s a different kind of cheese than at home, all stringy and melty. And this specific gratin is made with seafood. Big chunks of lobster and scallops, and white meat fish, all flaky and buttery. They throw bacon and onions in there, and whatever vegetables they have on hand, and put some cheese on top of it for good measure, and they bake it. It comes out piping hot, all rich and delicious. It melts in your mouth. It’s absolute heaven.”

“I don’t know what half of that stuff is and you’re making my mouth water! That sounds amazing!”

Claude laughed. “We can stop for a light snack if you’re feeling hungry already.”

“No, no. I’ll wait. Gotta save room.”

Claude did end up buying tea for himself and coffee for Nader. Then he led Nader to the book stand, the only one where the vendor, who was a regular and a fixture of the market, recognized him, since he’d been there semi-regularly over the past few years. Claude did introduce Nader as Nardel, but didn’t engage the woman in any conversation, simply picking out the title he was interested in—_The Prisoner from Dagda_—paying, and bidding her a good day.

As they walked away, Nader was glancing sideways at him, so Claude pressed him to say what was on his mind.

“She was the first person to recognize you. I was surprised no one’s seen through your disguise.”

“She knows me personally. I’m her customer.”

“That’s all well and good, but…” Nader broke off, as if trying to figure out how to phrase it. “Don’t the common people know their ruler?”

Claude’s stomach turned. “Not exactly. I’m not in the business of making many public appearances.”

“Why not? I thought you led the Alliance.”

“I do, but that’s just a title. The Alliance is a coalition; there’s no one ‘leader.’ We’re supposed to function as a team. But mostly, each man looks out for himself. It would come off kind of weird for me to visit the other lords’ territories on the regular, and maybe a little invasive. All of this to say that ‘leader’ isn’t really the same as being ‘king’ or ‘emperor.’ I’m not a ruler.”

“I know I’m an outsider to all this, but it just sounds off. Would you rather be a stranger to your people?”

Claude sighed. “As much as I don’t want to be, I can’t make that a priority. I’m too busy trying to avoid a civil war.” If he weren’t saddled with all these inherited burdens, he would concentrate on better serving the Alliance as a whole, especially the common people who had so little, rather than dealing with his fellow lords.

“We should start making our way over to the canals,” he said. “There’s a boat tour that goes through the city. They’ll probably be boarding in an hour, so we still have time to spare.”

—

After a short tour of the residential areas of Derdriu, Claude led Nader toward the canal. The sun had already begun its slow descent by the time they arrived, and an issue with one of the locks caused a short delay in the tour, meaning that it would start getting dark while they were out on the water. Perfect timing, just as Claude had hoped.

The captain paddled the tiny gondola through the center of the canal, the oars disturbing the stillness of the clear surface. Though tour captains had to be experienced and there was little danger of a boat overturning, Nader still seemed a little overwhelmed. It was likely that he couldn’t swim—growing up in central Almyra, as barren as it was, Nader wouldn’t have had much contact with bodies of water. But Claude found the water calming; the flow and ripples soothed him, and when a gentle breeze arrived with the dusk, he shut his eyes and drank it in.

Did he have to give this all up forever, eventually? Exchange the sea, the boats, the markets, and the fish for sand, reeds, and grass? Fog and cold rain for sunshine and dry heat? Wherever he went, he would always have the moon and stars—that much he could rely on. But what would he lose by leaving Fódlan? What would he lose by staying? It was not only about a promise to one land or the other. Not only about whether his loyalties lay with friends, mentors, or family. What if his dream didn’t succeed? The possibility of having to choose one land over another tore him up inside in a way even he didn’t understand. Why couldn’t those two worlds coexist without conflict, both inside and outside of him?

“You got quiet,” Nader remarked when they came back ashore.

“There’s a lot on my mind.” Claude climbed the flights of stairs, making his way toward the center of Derdriu. “Let’s go. Gotta beat the crowd.”

“Why not talk about it?”

“Please, don’t put me in a bad mood. I just want to have the evening off from these thoughts.”

“What happened to the boy who always talked to his Uncle Nader when he was having a bad day, huh? You always came to me first.”

He slapped Claude on the shoulder lightly. Claude rolled his shoulder to push him away.

“Hey, what’s with the attitude? Are you twenty or fifteen?”

“Cut it out. Seriously. I’m an adult, and you don’t need to baby me.”

“I’m not picking on you. I just want to know what’s bothering you. If I don’t know, I can’t do much about it, can I?”

“Oh, I see. So I’m not allowed to work it out on my own.” Claude had picked up the pace, hoping that walking faster would cut their conversation short, but Nader was keeping up with him, walking right beside him. “Tell me, does a good leader expect everyone else to solve his personal problems?”

“Do you think your father does it alone?” Nader was leaning in close to avoid being overheard. “Why do you think advisors exist? Just think of me as your advisor. Hell, your retainer. You trust me; I know you do. So you don’t have to tell me right this moment, but I do want to know.”

Advisor. Retainer… Oh. _That_ was smart. Claude grinned, a fleeting smirk.

“What are you smiling about? Don’t tell me you were just sulking to get my attention.”

“I wasn’t _sulking_, and besides, I could seriously do without you talking down to me. I just had a clever thought, and I’m filing it away for later.” Trying to drop the rude tone he’d taken, he breathed in and continued, “Anyway, let’s forget about all that for now and enjoy our dinner, yeah?”

“Thought you’d never ask. It’s about time for you to have a break. You looked about halfway to crying on that boat ride.”

“I was lost in thought. Enjoying the sea air.” It wasn’t a _complete_ lie. “Anyway, we can’t spend too long there. We still have to go out to the ports afterward, so don’t drink too much.”

Silly of him to have saved the most important part for last, the port being the most likely location to receive or fend off an army, though getting to know the streets and canals of Derdriu was important too.

—

Claude ordered the catch of the day, a plate of shellfish, and the gratin for the two of them to share. There was nothing they didn’t enjoy; the fish was fresh and mild, the clams and oysters were tender and salty, and the beer was smooth, unlike Nader who, a little unsteady after only a tankard, was trying to flirt with the waiter. Not that the guy wasn’t falling for it, which surprised Claude, since Nader’s pickup lines were twenty years out of date. Claude started eating faster so he could pay the tab and get them the hell out of there. He wouldn’t have cared had they been in Almyra, but the last thing he needed was for Nader to end up with that guy and risk him accidentally telling him his real name. He’d already gotten close. He was a dumb drunk.

While they were walking to the port, Nader kicked childishly at the cobblestone and whined about how cute the waiter had been, and how close he’d been to getting a date, and Claude just rolled his eyes with the occasional “I know” and “I get it.” He hadn’t had this view into Nader’s behavior as a person and not his mentor like he’d had with Judith and with Teach. Seeing his childhood mentor tipsy and hitting on strangers was jarring, to say the least. But when he’d known Nader, he’d been much younger and still under the illusion that every person over seventeen always had their shit together. Teach’s grief after Jeralt’s death had reminded him that, even as stoic as Teach was, no one, not even the people he admired, was immune to emotions. As much as Claude liked to pretend that he was. He really was his mother’s son.

Nader sobered up and fell quiet, and Claude didn’t make any attempt at conversation on the rest of the way there. When they reached the port, Claude walked to the end of one of the docks, sat down, and looked up. A few stars dotted the sky. The moon was still a crescent, but waxing. He thought of his Crest, and about the braids he’d used to keep in his hair. The boards creaked gently as Nader sat down next to him.

“We’ll start our journey tomorrow,” Claude said, keeping his eyes on the moon. “I’m excited for you to meet Judith.”

“So what’s this Judith like?”

“She’s one of my biggest inspirations, but also a neverending source of irritation.” He elbowed Nader. “Kinda like someone else I know.”

Nader laughed. “Glad to hear that someone’s still keeping you in line. What about the professor you had at the monastery? Are you going to introduce me?”

“In a couple years.” He knew he couldn’t control others’ decisions, but he felt oddly confident that he’d see his friends and Teach again. “It’s not time yet.”

“All right. I’ll take your word for it.”

They were quiet for a moment. Claude unrolled the cuffs on his jacket, buttoning them at the end, and pulled a pair of gloves out of his pockets, slipping them on. His reflection was distorted in the dark water.

“Am I really that different from when I was a kid?” His voice sounded small.

“Don’t worry about earlier. I should’ve known to leave things well alone. I’m kind of bad at that.”

“No, it wasn’t your fault. I was out of sorts. I have a lot on my mind nowadays, and I just—” He paused to take a breath, in and out. “There’s no one I can share everything with except myself. So I’m sorry I can’t be cheerful all the time like you and Papa.” He looked up, meeting Nader’s sincere golden eyes. “A guy can only keep up a smile for so long, you know?”

“Of course I know. How many times do you think His Majesty and I had to fake smiles during the war? Watching our friends die, sicknesses afflicting the whole camp, men broken without their wives and kids—but we kept a positive attitude on the surface. When there’s so much suffering, all you can do is hope you might be happy again.”

“My father would say the exact same thing. I could always tell you two were best friends.”

He’d always wished he could have had a best friend. Not just a mentor, but someone close to his age, to whom he could entrust anything. But he couldn’t. There were so many things he couldn’t tell anyone.

“I hate to say so, but you’ve always got that fake smile, too. You turned out just like your dad, for better or for worse.”

“You think so?” Now and then, Judith compared him to his mother, alongside whom she’d served in the war, and whom she’d known nearly as well as Nader knew Claude’s father. “That’s a shame.”

“Why?”

Claude sighed. “Am I just doomed to be compared to my parents? I haven’t seen them in years. I don’t really know them anymore, and they wouldn’t recognize who I’ve become. It seems so irrelevant, especially when I don’t even know who_ I_ am.”

They fell silent. Claude wasn’t even sure what to say after that. He really wanted to have this conversation with Judith, since she had been present for his transition into adulthood. But he knew it would be pointless. Trying to unite his Fódlan half with his Almyran half into a whole person felt as fruitless as a dog chasing its own tail. Besides, he was too busy taking responsibility for the future of an entire nation and worrying about the future of another one. He didn’t have time to ponder deep philosophical questions about identity.

“If nothing else,” Nader finally offered, “they’d be proud.”

Sighing, Claude said, “I’m hoping you’re right.”


	3. Chapter 3

Sleeping was difficult that night. Claude hadn’t felt such a range of emotions in one day since Grandpa’s death. He was overjoyed to spend time with someone who had meant so much to him when he was a child, yet so much had changed since his childhood in Almyra. He had enjoyed being in Derdriu like always, but now he was significantly less eager for his eventual departure from Fódlan. He wasn’t nervous about his scheme; when he had a plan, it was impossible to feel nervous. Coming down from the emotional high of a day ago, and with all of his responsibilities creeping up on him again, all he wanted to do was get out of bed and take his usual trip to the pantry. Thankfully, he fell asleep instead, while reading the book he’d bought at the market.

Claude rose with the sun the next morning, like he’d used to at Garreg Mach, and even took some time to sit and meditate instead of lying on his back staring blankly at the ceiling. He got washed and dressed, brought his packed bag out to the door, and knocked on Nader’s door. Breakfast was ready when he arrived in the dining room; he had sat on the edge of a chair and was arranging smoked salmon and a poached egg on the end piece of a crusty loaf when Nader walked in rubbing his eyes.

“How the tables have turned,” Claude teased. “Sleep well?”

“Well enough. How about you?”

“Like a babe.” Claude bit into his toast and waited until he was done chewing to speak. “We have to set out as soon as we can. We should have clearance to travel through Daphnel land unharmed, but we should stay cautious regardless.

“There’s one other thing,” he continued, as Nader sat down and prepared his own breakfast. “If you take on that fake name, you need a fake identity to go with it.”

“Fake name? Oh, that’s right.” He paused to take a bite of his breakfast, then said, “Uh, what was it again?”

“Nar-_del_.”

“Oh, yeah! I remember now! So what should I do? My best impression of someone from Fódlan?”

Claude shrugged. “Just act like yourself. As long as you don’t mention that you look after wyverns, you’re probably fine. But don’t call me ‘kiddo.’”

“Aw, really?” Nader wiped his mouth on the side of his hand. “What am I supposed to call you then? Just ‘Claude’?”

Adopting a lofty tone, Claude continued, “You must solely refer to me as ‘Master Claude’ and to Judith as ‘Lady Judith.’ You must bow when you meet the Lady, and be certain to treat us as your superiors, not as your equals. Most of all, mind your manners, milord.”

“Uh-huh. Yeah. Got it.”

“Starting by wiping your face while you’re eating, and not on your hand.” Claude pointed to the napkin next to Nader’s plate. “It’s not proper to save your food for later, milord.”

“Knock it off, kiddo. I can bow and be polite. I’ve been to enough summits and conventions in my lifetime.”

Claude smirked. Dropping the fabricated airs, he said, “Is it that easy to get under your skin?”

“I let you off easy. Imagine if it were your parents.”

Claude gasped in mock horror. “Who in their right mind would ever try to pick on those two?”

“You’d wound your poor old pops.” Nader imitated sniffling and wiping his eyes. “‘Oh, how could my only son say such a thing about me? Am I failing as a father?’”

“My mother would be furious.” Speaking in falsetto to mimic his mother’s voice, he said, “‘How _dare_ you insult me? You little scamp. I ought to kick your butt!’”

They bent over the table, wheezing with laughter.

“You don’t even know how much you sound like Her Majesty. It’s like she’s in the same room!” Nader said when he’d caught his breath.

Claude grinned. “I was going to say the same about your scarily accurate impression of Papa.”

They finished their breakfast in silence, each stifling a few giggles at the thought of Claude’s parents reacting in such an overblown way to friendly teasing. Then Nader wiped his mouth, with a napkin this time, and sat back in his chair, folding his arms.

“Listen, Claude. I know that I said you were just like your dad. But I was thinking last night, and I have to take that back. I’m sorry I said that.”

Claude sat up to meet his eyes. “It’s fine. I understand why you said it.”

“You’re so closed off now. I’m just concerned that you’ll become like he was after the war. Faking being friendly and open, I mean. He was much more genuine when you were growing up, but he was never quite the same as he used to be.”

“Nader…” Claude laughed bitterly, burying his face in his hand and leaning forward on the table. “You _know_ it’s fake. It’s all an act to get people to trust me. But I don’t give them that same trust in return. I’ve never been genuine in my life.”

“I don’t think that’s quite right. You and your dad, you truly want to connect to people. You love being around people and having a good time. You always enjoyed our feasts. Right?”

Closing his eyes, Claude nodded against his hand.

“Now, tell me, what’s wrong with trusting people? Is it because you’re overwhelmed with being a leader? Is it because you’re away from home and you’re scared about leaving them one day? What’s the bigger problem?”

Both of those guesses were close, but neither hit the bullseye. It wasn’t because Claude was away from home, it was because he didn’t feel at home. How could he call Fódlan home when he could never be comfortable putting his life in someone else’s hands and calling them his _friend_ in the way that Almyran warriors meant it? And how could he call Almyra home when he was so estranged from everything and everyone that he’d known and loved there, when his last memories of the place had driven him to run away?

He shut his eyes tighter. “Was I wrong back then?”

“I can’t tell you if I don’t know what you mean.”

“Running away. Was I wrong?” Would he be better off if he had stayed in Almyra?

“Sometimes running away is the best thing you can do.”

Claude opened his eyes, but kept them focused on the table. “What do you mean?”

“You had lots of new experiences. You met people you care about. Come on, you had all those friends back at the monastery, didn’t you? Your ‘Golden Deer’ or whatever it was? Tell me about ’em.”

He hesitated. After all, his housemates were the children of Almyra’s enemies. Well, he didn’t have to _name_ them.

“Let’s see… there’s one girl, she’s lazy and gets other people to do things for her. She’s never tricked me, since she really is capable of a lot. And then there’s Mr. Self-Obsessed Noble who’s all about the nobility and his noble status, but honestly, he’s a nice guy when he’s not trying to con someone into marrying him.

He sat up and folded his arms. “There’s a cheerful, friendly fellow who’s focused on getting stronger to protect his sister. A shy young man who’s a talented artist and quick with a bow. A girl with sad eyes who isn’t very talkative but seems to like being around us. Another girl who’s short in height and in temper, who’s way smarter than any of us. And a thrifty girl with a kind heart, who wants to become a mercenary to protect her village.”

“You all ended up in the same class? All these kids are from the Alliance?”

“That’s right.”

“Huh! They sound like a colorful gang.”

Claude nodded.

“And you got along with them.”

“It’s not as if we ever fought, but it’s not as if they never got on my nerves. But I couldn’t really be myself around them.”

“You only knew them for a year.”

“Not even that. A little less than a year.”

“My point stands. You weren’t ready to open up to them.”

“It’s not that I wasn’t, it’s that I couldn’t,” was what Claude was going to say, but he stopped himself before it came out. Letting someone in on his past and his dream might undermine his plan altogether if that person told someone else, and it also meant baring his soul before them. Either way, it would have been too dangerous. He couldn’t take such risks. He wasn’t ready. Not for any part of it, and not with any person other than himself.

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right.” Claude stood up. “Anyway, we have to get going. We can’t just talk all day.”

—

The fields between Riegan and Daphnel land were open and vast. Other than a scant few villages and stands of trees, the land was almost entirely cleared for agriculture and for the purposes of travel and safety—a looter or assassin would take any cover possible. The dirt road wove across the gently sloping hills, the sunrise claiming the morning dew still clinging to the grass and drying any mud. It had been three years since Claude had made the journey, yet he could close his eyes and name every bump in the path, every landmark, all the places where the grass got patchy, and which fields grew which crops.

When he was younger, he hadn’t fully appreciated the journey, always impatient for the days, weeks, and sometimes months he’d spend at Judith’s. Now, he recognized the value of that anticipation, and how it always paid off when he got to spend time training with her and, outside of their regimen, was free to pursue his more questionable hobbies without any judgment. He’d found some of that same freedom at Garreg Mach, and he had complete freedom at home now. He no longer needed to escape his family’s judgmental gazes. The scrutiny he needed to escape so desperately now came from the lords relying on him to mediate their disputes and facilitate compromise.

It wasn’t that Claude wasn’t a smooth talker, nor that he couldn’t devise solutions—diplomacy was all about strategy, so it came easily to his tactical mind. He was just tired. He missed when his grandfather had taken care of it all, and he hadn’t had to worry about politics. Yet he’d always been interested. He’d enjoyed the policy discussions at the roundtables he’d attended with his grandfather. A few times, he’d even continued the discussion afterward with Grandpa. He should have had plenty of time to observe and learn the way that Duke Eugene ran things, so that there was an easy transition to Duke Claude’s tenure. But Claude hadn’t prepared enough for his role, and now he realized how easy the old man had made it look.

Eugene von Riegan had watched these men grow from children to adults. Their parents had known Eugene well, and their children had inherited that knowledge. They knew the rift that Priscilla’s departure had caused in the Riegan family, and they had their suspicions about the family’s unstable health (the official story was always that an ill member of the family died in battle, in an “accident,” or of old age—although Godfrey’s illness had only been half of the cause of his death). But even if some of them were shrewd enough to recognize Claude as the heir based on the little that was publicly known about Priscilla’s disappearance, they still gave him looks that let him know that he wasn’t the same as his grandfather and that they had no reason to warmly receive him.

Having received little advice from his grandfather and now deprived of the chance to even ask, Claude’s head swam with questions. Since Judith had lived in the Alliance longer than he had, he’d considered asking her. Some of the questions easily could have been answered in a letter, or after searching Grandpa’s records for a few hours. Other questions he mulled over at night when he was wide awake, and knew that he could only express them properly, and get answers, in person. As comfortable as he was with being vulnerable around her, he was loath to tell her that his position was wearing on him. In the few letters he’d sent since he’d last seen her, he’d pretended he was fine. He hadn’t wanted to worry her. But he hadn’t visited her since he’d become Leader, and that had probably caused her more worry than anything.

After half a day of riding, interspersed with a few breaks, they finally arrived at the gate to her home. The same old soldier who’d always guarded the gate, Peter, stood watch. Claude greeted him, surprising him with his changed appearance. Peter permitted them to go to the stables, and after tying the horse, Claude led Nader to the front door, knocking three times and waiting for a response.

The door creaked open after a moment, and Judith appeared in the doorway. Claude didn’t get a chance to say hello before he was squeezed half to death.

“_Ack_—let me go, Judith, you’re gonna crush my ribs—” And least of all in front of Nader. She was so embarrassing.

“Don’t you know it’s rude to keep a lady waiting for three years,” Judith affectionately scolded him, “Duke Riegan.”

She loosened her grip, and Claude was actually able to return her hug. “Yes, that is my title; I won’t deny it. I am indeed the Leader of the Alliance now.” She finally let go and Claude could step back. “I thought you wouldn’t recognize me. You know, with the stubble and the new hairstyle.”

“Oh, please. It’s not as if growing facial hair makes you look any older. It can’t cover up your babyface.”

“_Judith_! I’m not babyfaced. I’m _twenty_!”

Nader snorted. Claude shot him a death glare and was met with an “I’m innocent” look.

“Unlike your friend here,” Judith said, turning to Nader. “Now _that_ is a real beard.”

Nader bowed his head. “Thank you for the compliment, milady. I’m quite proud of it myself.”

“Could I have your name, sir?”

“Nardel, milady. I’m a retainer in service of the Duke.”

“I’m Judith von Daphnel. Claude’s been my student since he turned thirteen. It’s a pleasure.”

“Likewise.” Nader bowed.

“Come on inside, you two. I’ll put on tea, then you can tell me more about what’s been happening these past three years.”

They followed her inside, and the butler showed them to their rooms while Judith put on tea. After they’d gotten settled, Claude led Nader to the sitting room. Noticing a bit of discomfort on his face, Claude whispered, “What is it?”

“That woman’s strong. She looks like she could bash my face in.”

“She’s kindhearted. She won’t whup you unless it’s justified.”

Nader sighed. “That’s good to know. Kinda would like to see her in action though. She’d make a worthy opponent.”

Claude smirked. “Hoped you’d say that.”

“Huh? Why’s that?”

“No reason.” He felt the anticipation building again. The most exciting part of his scheme had yet to be put into place, and he could barely keep it a secret.

Judith walked in, handed each of them a cup of tea, and sat down across from them with her own cup in hand. Claude wondered if she’d always had that many silver strands in her ponytail, and whether the grooves time had worn under her eyes had always been so deep. He thought about the dark circles under his own eyes, where there had only used to be his mother’s freckles.

“I was only teasing you about your beard. You’ve grown, boy,” Judith began.

“You think so?”

“Your shoulders are broader. Your face is definitely less round than it was. You’re losing your baby fat.”

“I might be losing it from my face, but it’s just migrating to other places.”

Judith shrugged. “Stress’ll do that to you. I don’t think you’re the first person to turn to food because of a huge change in your life.”

Claude’s shoulders felt light. “That really means a lot to hear. Thank you.”

“But remember, it’s important for a leader to stay in shape. You lose a lot of the energy you need if all you do is sit in your room and eat and sleep.”

Claude fake-laughed nervously. “About that…”

“Tell me, Nardel. Has the boy been training?”

Nader looked to Claude, who nodded, giving him the go-ahead to talk about yesterday’s session.

“Master Claude and I trained together yesterday. The young master is quite accomplished with an axe and makes a formidable opponent.”

“I’m glad to hear your axe skills have improved since your Garreg Mach days.”

“Oh, I’m a natural now. But Nardel is a good match for me. He’s got a very different style from you, so it was a pretty jarring change at first.”

“Now you’ve got my attention.” Judith folded her arms. “It’s been long enough, Claude. I’d like to see how your style has developed. We should have a duel.”

“I wholeheartedly agree, but at the moment I’m beat. Although I think Nardel is also interested.”

“Interested in observing or interested in challenging me?”

“In challenging you, Lady Judith, if I may request it,” Nader replied. “I’m a veteran of the last war with Almyra, and I have quite a bit of experience with axes, swords, and bows.”

“Claude’s certainly a better archer than I am, but I’m excellent with a sword, and pretty good with an axe and lance.” She turned to Claude. “Is that accurate to say?”

“It’s true. Your mastery of weapons is unmatched by anyone I know.” He turned to Nader, who looked slightly miffed at Claude’s comment. “Though in terms of raw strength, Nardel might have you beat.” The smile returned to his mentor’s face.

“So he’s that strong? I suppose the Leader of the Alliance does have the best pick of retainers.”

“Actually, we kind of met each other by luck. He was a retired mercenary looking to serve under someone, and we just happened upon each other. About which I’m glad.”

He turned to Nader and met his eyes with a small smile.

“As am I, Master Claude,” Nader said.

“That’s wonderful, Claude. I’m relieved you’ve found someone to support you. I wished I could have done more for you in these first few years. If I hadn’t been occupied at the border, I’d have been on your doorstep.”

“Aw, Judith.” Claude scratched the back of his head. “I managed well enough these past couple years. I’ve been fine.”

“That the Alliance hasn’t completely caved in on itself makes me believe that’s true. But when I look in your eyes, I have my doubts.”

She was frowning, concerned. Shamefully, he lowered his head. How could she always see right through him?

“So that’s why you wanted to come,” she said, her voice going soft. “I wish you wouldn’t have waited so long. We’ll talk later, after dinner. How’s that sound?”

Gathering himself, Claude replied, “Okay. I can wait until then.”

“You want your favorite?”

“You know it.”

“Got it. I’ll let Jack know. I have some letters to take care of, so I’ll be busy. You two can go back to your rooms. Or to the training ground, if you’re so inclined.” She pointed to the door in the sunroom behind them that led outside.

“All right, Claude.” She nodded. “You know where I’ll be if you need me.”

“Yep. See you at dinner.”

Claude waited until she left the room. Then he got up and sat across from Nader on the other couch. “That wasn’t too tough, was it?”

“Nah. It was a breeze.”

“So you’re no longer intimidated?”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong.” Nader dropped his voice to a whisper again. “That woman has more of a presence than your mother.”

“So she _did_ scare you.” Claude smirked. “Afraid of losing to her?”

Nader furrowed his brow. “Think I’m gonna lose to someone from Fódlan?”

“Hey, now. Keep it down.”

“Sorry. I just can’t help it.”

Claude smiled. “Don’t fret. You’ve fooled her so far. For all she knows, there were thousands of Alliance soldiers who served in that war. You might have served in a completely different division, so she doesn’t think it’s odd that she never met you. Not to mention it’s been a while. So she might think she’s just forgotten you if she did meet you.”

Nader shook his head. “I’ve never seen her face, and that’s for certain.”

“She’s shown no sign of recognizing you either. I’m just thinking out loud.”

They were quiet for a moment before Nader ventured, “So what’s for dinner? What’s ‘your favorite’?”

“If her memory hasn’t escaped her, it should be chicken stew. The recipe’s been passed down through her house for generations. It’s got potatoes and carrots and onions and all the good stuff. Fills you right up. Not very much seasoning, but it’s delicious.”

“You seemed pretty excited about it.”

“I’ve thought about it now and then for the past couple years. Jack’s cooking is excellent. He’s been working for her for, oh, twenty years? He’s really a talented chef.”

“You know everyone around here. The guard, the butler, the cook.”

“Well, she doesn’t have too many people working for her, since it’s just her, but I guess they’re used to seeing me.”

“She doesn’t have any kids or anything?”

“Nope. It’s just her.”

“Seems like you should be living here instead of in that big mansion.”

Claude smiled. “As much as she dotes on me, I’d probably get tired of that pretty quickly.”

“Why’s that?”

“It’s not nearly as special if I see her every day, is it? Just like with your visits to Papa and our feasts when I was a kid. I always got excited because it was out of the ordinary. I don’t really ever want it to become the norm. I always want it to be something special.”

“Aw, kiddo. That’s nice to hear. But don’t say that to your parents. They’ll be pissed if you don’t come home to stay for longer than a week before going back to Fódlan.”

“I won’t pull anything like that. When I come back, I’m staying, and that’s final.” Claude sighed, then said, “Might as well earn our meal. Let’s go train a bit, why don’t we?”

“It’s a deal. I could never turn that offer down.”

—

Claude and Nader came in for dinner sweaty and exhausted. They devoured their stew, and Nader turned in early after washing up. Judith still had some correspondence to finish, so Claude sat in his room and read until it was too dark, then he got a bath, put on his pajamas and robe, and walked to the sunroom where he sat on the chaise, reading in the moonlight filtering through the bay window. He hadn’t read many stories and poetry when he was younger, preferring to learn more about the world around him, but now he realized how relaxing they were, and why Judith had always encouraged him to get into fiction.

A light knock on the entryway to the sunroom startled him slightly. He looked up and met her eyes. “Good evening, Judith.”

“Evening. What are you reading?”

Claude held up the book so she could see the cover.

“_The Prisoner from Dagda_? I’m glad to see you picked it up.” She smiled. “How do you like the protagonist?”

“Esmyreth? Is that how you say it out loud? She’s sneaky, and she’s got a sharp mind, which is pretty cool, plus she’s quick with a bow. Leliana seems a bit oblivious though, especially with all that time she’s spent watching over her. She’s in charge of a hostage, and it’s wartime. She should be more suspicious, but she’s too trusting, and that’ll be her biggest downfall.”

“I thought you’d like Esmyreth. She reminded me of you and your schemes.”

Claude smiled. “I thought that’s why you recommended it.” He closed the book and set it down on the chaise. “Can we sit outside?”

They walked out the door of the sunroom and around the side of the house to the garden, sitting down in the metal garden chairs. It was a little cold, but Claude didn’t mind, as long as the stars were watching over him.

“How did your training go today?” Judith asked.

“It went well. Nardel is tough.”

“With how much credit you’ve given his abilities, I certainly look forward to fighting him.”

“You should. I’m not lying about his talent.”

“I’d think he’s pretty experienced, since he’s about my age.”

Claude looked down. He didn’t remember all those gray hairs he now saw in Nader’s beard and at his temples, nor the coarser laugh lines at the corners of his eyes.

“Judith. Have I aged that much?”

“I’m not sure what you want me to say. It’s been three years since I last saw you, so of course you’ve changed.”

“I’m getting dark circles under my eyes. I’m gaining weight and muscle mass. I’m growing hair on my chin. I’m supposed to feel proud that I’m not a scrawny kid anymore and that I’ve learned responsibility, but I feel and look like absolute hell.”

“All right, you’ve never been terribly concerned for your appearance. Come on. Get to the real question.”

“I just don’t know if any of this is worth it. It just sucks the energy and happiness out of me. I’m devoted to my position, so I rarely have time for what I really value. And there’s no one for me to rely on. I was never close to my grandfather, but now that he’s gone, I don’t have anyone. So there. That’s the whole problem.”

“What about Nardel? You seem quite close to him.”

Claude’s heart sped up. Had she figured it out that quickly? “For just having met, we definitely think in similar ways.”

“No harm in getting to know him if he’s going to be at your side through the war. Or whoever’s going to be by your side. You want someone you can trust beside you, don’t you? In the absence of your professor and your friends.”

“I do, but what’s the point if I can’t tell that person everything, and they can’t do the same for me? If I can’t rely on them completely?”

He always felt like such a hypocrite, wanting to know everything about everyone, yet locking away his own precious secrets. It drove him nuts if he didn’t know everyone else’s story, but giving up his truth to anyone else was the most dangerous thing he could do.

“Look, Claude, you know there are some things I won’t tell you, and I never will. Usually it’s because there’s not really a point. Those things are between me and my family, or me and other people from my past, or me and the Goddess, and they’re not relevant to you. You don’t have to feel bad about not telling people things, because not everyone needs to know everything.”

“I know that. But it won’t stop me from prying.”

His parents, his grandfather and uncle, Judith, even Nader, they all kept secrets from him to some extent. So he continued hiding his own. He knew it would go on like that forever with anyone he met. And though he had mastered that game, he hated playing it. If everyone was open about themselves, would it make the world more open? Would it break down borders? Or would people always be putting up walls, shielding the vulnerable parts of themselves, even as they ached to demolish those walls?

“Besides,” Judith said, “it’s not like you to want to lean on someone completely. You’re independent. You always have been.”

Nader would disagree with that. Claude had been glued to his mother’s side in his early childhood, and when he got a bit older, he was hovering around Papa and Nader at any chance he got. But as soon as the insults and glares began, that was the end of being attached to his parents and Nader, who, despite their attempts at sympathy, couldn’t truly understand his unique plight. He’d had to fight back on his own, making his own choice to run away and go to Fódlan. More than anything, those experiences had molded him into the fiercely independent teenager that Judith had known.

“I think you’re right. Because I’m stressed, I think that I need _people_ more than ever. But I’ve never needed anyone to get along on my own. I’ve always been able to figure things out eventually.”

“Back up, Claude. I didn’t say to abandon your friendships completely. How do you think that would make me feel? What about your professor and your classmates? Have you written to anyone other than me in the past three years, or are you just isolating yourself because you think you can manage on your own?”

Claude’s mind went blank.

“Oh, shit. Oh, _shit_.” His voice cracked, and he buried his head in his hands, elbows on the table. “I’m such an idiot. I haven’t written to anyone. I’ve been a terrible friend. I’ve been so _stupid_!”

He felt hot tears trickling down his cheeks. There was no point in holding back around her. Midway through crying, choked by quiet sobs and hiccups, he remembered to breathe, and he took breaths in and out, Judith’s hand resting lightly on his shoulder. He barely noticed she’d stood up until the door creaked. A minute later she came back with a handkerchief, and he sat upright and made his face presentable again.

“Feel better?” she asked.

“Yeah. Now that I know what the problem is.”

“I think I know, too. You’re scared to write them because you’re afraid of bad news.”

“That’s part of it.”

“A few years after my retirement, I reached out to about the same number of people, friends I’d served with. And you know what? I didn’t get any bad news. They all got back to me. Sure, I haven’t kept in touch with most of them. But I took that chance back then, because I cared. And they were all delighted to hear from me. So go on, do it. There’s no harm in reaching out.”

“But I don’t want them to worry about me.”

“I know. I know you lied to me in every letter you sent.”

He bowed his head. “Was it that obvious?”

“Sweetie, there’s no way you lead an entire country and come out with any shred of sanity left. It changes people. Why do you think rulers always lose their minds in stories? They just got fed up and couldn’t take the bullshit anymore. But you have the patience to deal with the bullshit. I know you do.”

He laughed. “‘The patience to deal with the bullshit.’ Well said. That’s what the Leader of the Alliance _really_ needs.”

“It’s what any leader needs. Every good leader has to put up with other people’s shit. Right?”

“Right.” He nodded. “I’m so glad I was able to talk to you about this. I feel like you’ve turned a light on for me.”

“I know you’re not hopeless without me, but I’m gonna pretend you are just so I can take the credit when the Alliance enters the war and wins.”

“_Judith_.” He rolled his eyes. “You’re the worst. But… you’re also the best.”

She smirked. “You wouldn’t have it any other way, boy.”

“Of course not. Thank you so much.”

“You’re certainly welcome. Is there anything else on your mind?”

“I could talk to you endlessly, but I’m too tired. Besides, I should rest up for our big fight tomorrow. Nardel’s just over the moon about it. He hasn’t gotten this much combat time since his military days.”

“Get some rest, then. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“All right.” Claude got up from his chair and walked to the door. “’Night, Judith. And thanks again.”

“No problem. You know I’ll always be here for you.”


	4. Chapter 4

Claude had trouble getting to sleep again, but this time it wasn’t because he had too many things to think about, but because he was excited about the culmination of his plan. Everything was falling into place: Nader had a good impression of Judith and vice versa; Judith didn’t seem to be aware that Nader wasn’t from Fódlan, or if she was, she hadn’t made any indication or didn’t care. The duel was the final key to cementing goodwill, and hopefully trust, between the two of them.

He’d gotten the idea, albeit indirectly, from Nader himself. It had been inspired by the story he’d heard so often in his childhood (Nader told the same stories over and over) about Nader meeting his mother. He had been suspicious of Claude’s mother at first; since she had defected from the Alliance military and descended from a renowned Fódlan family, he had no reason to trust her. But after she wiped the floor with him in a duel of archery and swords, he acknowledged her power and begrudgingly respected her from that point on. It was only now that he had begun to talk about Mama with a sort of distant fondness that Claude hadn’t noticed before. It gave Claude hope that Nader, and maybe even Papa, could get to know and even befriend more people from Fódlan.

This particular scheme had its political benefits. Their cooperation would be invaluable in wartime. But this same scheme was also a building block in his dream. He kept envisioning a day when everyone could cross the border without going to extreme lengths. No Locket choking Fódlan’s Throat, no Goneril troops, and no Almyran brigades. Just people and goods, coming and going freely. That wouldn’t change overnight. He knew the changes would be slow and gradual. So he would start with the people he knew.

He was in the armory at dawn, looking at the swords using the weak glint from the rising sun as a guide. He’d brought a bow and quiver, of course, but no sword. Many of the swords were his size, since he’d used them up until he’d attended Garreg Mach. There were a few swords with a lot of nicks and scratches in them, and the softened leather hilts fit perfectly in his hands. He closed his eyes, and he was a young and gawky teenager, facing Judith for the first time.

Grandpa had brought him to meet Judith. Claude had been nervous. He’d had little experience with a sword. His strokes had been much too heavy. He’d put all of his weight behind each swing like his life depended on it. She had taught him how to be artful, fluid, and purposeful. Teach’s style was utilitarian, but it got the job done; Nader’s had more force behind it, and left him a little bit open. Judith’s strokes were quick and deft, connected in a smooth flow; she only put a moderate amount of force into her strikes. Claude was still too heavy now and then—even after eight years, it was hard to break a childhood habit—and now he tended toward Teach’s bluntness and Nader’s force rather than Judith’s fluidity.

Had learning from the best made him the best? How had he changed? Had any of them changed? He picked a sword and an axe and headed outside to wait for his mentors.

—

“You and I will go first.”

Claude didn’t argue with Judith. He stepped forward and squared up to face her, both hands on the hilt of his blade. Her steel blue eyes met his, and they exchanged smirks and lunged forward.

Judith met his force with equal pressure at first, then she pushed forward, forcing Claude to unlock their blades. He stepped back, then forward again, meeting her sword with another heavy swing that she countered easily. Lightening the pressure, he unlocked their blades again to swing sideways, which she quickly blocked. They slashed at the air in front of each other, blades clanging, careful not to go beyond that maintained distance.

Every swift strike of hers he answered with a strike of his own. His momentum was solid, his focus razor-sharp. But his strokes were still too heavy for swordfighting, at least to combat her style. He didn’t have the same precision with a sword that he had with a bow, and when his momentum faltered, she was able to knock his sword from his grasp, and he held his hands up and stepped back.

“You’ve improved,” Judith said after she’d caught her breath. She wiped her forehead with the back of her hand, then reached for the rag slung over the back of her chair.

Claude knelt to pick up his sword, then stood back up. “I should hope so.” His choppy hair was matted with sweat, and his chin felt itchy and gross. He walked to the other chair to sit down and catch his breath and a drink of water.

“But not as much as I expected. Be honest, how often have you been training?”

“Not often. I don’t really have the time.”

“You don’t _set aside _time for it.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it.” Turning away from the table, he looked at Nader, who was sitting on the other side of the training ground polishing a sword, watching Claude and Judith as he did so. “Better get ready soon. Your challenger’s been waiting since yesterday.” And Claude was eager to reap the benefits of his scheme.

Judith wiped her forehead and her blade, then walked over to Nader. Claude watched as Nader stood up and positioned himself in front of Judith on the training ground. His mentors, Almyran and Fódlan, drew their swords. And then their blades clashed.

Nader’s powerful first strike caught Judith off-guard. It was a hallmark of his style to lead with an imposing strike to attempt to throw the enemy off-balance. Some might call it cheap, but Claude always thought it worked, at least on opponents who didn’t know Nader well. She quickly regained her footing, returning his strike with her own. The sheer pressure when their blades locked almost made her stumble, but she retained a wide stance, always ready to counter by pivoting from her hips, the way she’d taught Claude. Countering the fluidity of her strikes was difficult even for Nader, focused as he was on the end goal of knocking her sword to the ground.

Everything unfolded quickly, each swing met by a parry, Claude’s eyes darting to follow their ballet. Picking up on each other’s styles, they adjusted their approaches on the fly. Nader matched her speed, but lost some of his power; she borrowed his force, but suffered breaks in her momentum. Claude was in awe of their adaptability. It made him feel inadequate, but also reminded him that there was always more to learn.

They began to falter. Nader could no longer deliver the powerful strikes he had when their dance began; Judith was wearing out from continuously countering his blows. Claude was on the edge of his seat, literally. He blinked a few times to clear his eyes, there was a _clang_, and when he opened his eyes again, Judith had bent over to catch her breath, left hand on her knee. Her sword was still in her right hand. Nader was empty-handed.

Claude barely withheld his gasp.

Nader frowned, bending to pick up his sword. “So much for being undefeated.”

“Undefeated since yesterday,” Claude corrected quickly. He took a breath to collect himself, then said, “That… was crazy close, though.”

Nader shook his head. “No way. She—er, milady trounced me.”

“No, Claude’s right,” Judith said, straightening her spine. “I haven’t been evenly matched in a long time.” Turning to Claude and pointing to Nader, she asked, “Where the hell did you find him?”

“Like I said, it was a chance meeting.” Claude winked at Nader. “So, what do you two think of each other? Impressed?”

“Absolutely,” Judith answered. “I haven’t met anyone who fights like him. That kind of style is hard to pull off. You weren’t lying about his strength.”

“Lady Judith is skilled beyond compare,” Nader said. Turning to her, he continued, “I’ve never met anyone who fights like you, either. I’d be honored to fight alongside someone so strong.”

Yes. That was what Claude had hoped to hear.

“Same to you. You know, if you ever get tired of working under this one,” she gestured to Claude, “you could come train alongside me. Help me whip my soldiers into shape.”

“As much as I’d like to return to my glory days, I think I’ll have to decline.” Nader looked at Claude. “After all, I’m bound to my duty. That is, helping the young master return home.”

“Well, someone’s got to look after the boy. And, on that subject, you two should train together more often.” She turned to Claude. “There are some parts of your style that are similar to Nardel’s. He could teach you a lot.”

Whoa. She was totally oblivious. How could she not make the connection? “I’m sure he could,” Claude said when he’d gathered enough composure to answer earnestly.

They’d already started on it, but he had to put the final part of his scheme into motion, just to further implant the idea in their heads. “You know, I think you have a point, Judith. You two would work well alongside each other. In fact, your differing styles of swordsmanship are very complementary. Nardel excels in raw strength, while you’re swifter and more subtle.”

“You think so?” Judith looked over at Nader. “You’re a vet too, right? Do you have experience commanding troops?”

Nader grinned. “Oh, yes. Lots. I’m not very strict, but people tended to gather around me, since I was so confident and always brought us victories.”

Since he hadn’t mentioned his specific position, Claude decided to let him off the hook for being so eager to talk about his military experience.

“I’m not the strict type either. Granted, I still know how to keep them in line. But it’s more about teaching your soldiers how to carry themselves. You don’t expect to have the best men and women right away.”

“No, not at all. I completely agree. The strongest warriors have had a wide variety of experiences. Most importantly for me, you should be close to them. I was always ready to die for any of my lot. We valued the unbreakable bonds we built during the war.”

“As long as that friendship doesn’t involve too much fooling around, I’m sold.” Judith uncrossed her arms and offered her hand to Nader. “I’d be glad to work with you at any time, Nardel. I’ll send word to Claude if I ever need your assistance, and he can do the same for you.”

“It’s a done deal, Lady Judith.” Nader flashed a wide smile, giving her a firm handshake, and Claude’s heart sang with the satisfaction of seeing a scheme to its end.

—

Nader and Judith continued to hit it off well. With Claude’s permission, Nader shared stories from the war, and exercised surprising restraint in disguising what would have tipped him off as an Almyran. Judith even talked about her time serving alongside Claude’s mother—nothing more than the little she had told Claude—and Nader, thankfully, acted as if he didn’t know anything about Claude’s mother.

Claude was overjoyed that his scheme had worked out so well. His little test run had opened up a world of possibilities. For instance, if Holst and Nader met on better terms, and ended up treating each other with the same respect and cordiality with which Nader and Judith treated each other, that could help open the rest of the Goneril family’s minds. And if that spread further into other houses in the Alliance, the two countries might begin slowly moving on from their bloodstained past. The prejudices were old and firmly embedded. But there were so many things the two countries could learn from each other.

The changes just had to start small.


	5. Chapter 5

Claude and Nader left the following morning. Judith was torn up about Claude’s departure, but Claude promised to write. An honest letter to her was just one of many he had to write; the list was growing. Some he was required to write as part of his duty, like his regular correspondence to the members of the roundtable. Others he wasn’t obligated to write, but he knew how much better he’d feel once he’d sent them.

He started on them late the following morning, after he and Nader trained at dawn. Laying out ten pieces of parchment on his desk, he penned the letterhead of each one. One after the other, he wrote “Dear” followed by the name at the top: letters addressed to Ignatz, Lysithea, Raphael, Leonie, Marianne, Lorenz, Hilda, Teach, Mama, and Papa. He contemplated where to begin, but he was interrupted by a knock on his door.

“Yes?”

“Nardel requests your presence in the sitting room,” came Nader’s voice, full of hot air.

“I will arrive promptly, good sir,” Claude replied in an equally snooty voice, carefully laying his pen down, standing up, and pushing in his desk chair.

Nader was sitting on one of the couches. Three packages wrapped in brown paper rested on the table.

“What’s going on here?” Claude was genuinely surprised. “When did you get packages?”

“I’ve had them since I got here. I was just waiting for a good time to give them to you.”

“Are they from you?”

“Nope, I can’t take credit.”

“Then they’re from Mama and Papa? Can I…”

“Go ahead. Open them.”

Claude picked up the thinnest package first. It felt like there was something soft inside. Two soft things. He tore the paper, revealing a green, black, and yellow patterned sash, decorated with small, colorful pompoms on rings at each end.

He gasped, his eyes widening. “Wow, this is…”

A sash like this was gifted to the prince on his sixteenth birthday to signify that he had become a man. All the princes and kings in storybooks, paintings, and tapestries wore a sash, and each had a unique design. The chevrons and checkerboard were usually present, and pompoms were traditional as well, but the colors and the other patterns, which were chosen by the prince’s mother, varied.

“Yes. It’s exactly what you think it is.” Nader laughed softly. “It may be years late, but Her Majesty insisted I take it along. I know, no formal ceremony or anything, and I’m not your dad. But I’m the closest you can get.”

“I don’t mind that it’s late. I’m glad just to have it. Beyond glad.”

“Then I’m happy we could get it to you. There’s something underneath as well.”

Claude reached underneath the sash, and felt something worn and familiar. He wasn’t one to blush, but when he realized what it was, the tips of his ears warmed.

“Oh, come on…” He lifted up the pilled yellow blanket. “Is she _trying_ to embarrass me?”

Nader had already broken into a laughing fit.

“I’m twenty, not two!” Claude sputtered, but he couldn’t help but feel fond at the same time. He understood why his parents would have packed the blankie with the sash. It was cheesy, sure, but he got the message.

“You used to drag that blankie all around the castle. We couldn’t pry it away from you…” Nader sighed. “You were such a cute little shaver.”

“All right, that’s enough babying,” Claude said, though he felt himself smiling. He reached for the next package, a small box, and tore the paper, opening the lid.

“Oh, look at those.” The golden pauldrons shone so brightly he had to blink. “They’re beautiful.”

“Traditional armor. They’re sturdy, not just pretty. You can look forward to getting some silks in a couple years when you turn twenty-two, provided it’s still safe to cross the border. Who knows, maybe you’ll see ol’ Sahabat again, if the stubborn goat lets me ride for more than two seconds before bucking.”

Silks were the traditional uniform worn by an Almyran soldier who rode a wyvern. Claude hadn’t ridden a wyvern since he was at Garreg Mach—the horse stables on the estate didn’t have the kind of room a wyvern required, though Claude was more than willing to expand them. Even if he bought or raised another wyvern, he wouldn’t have the same bond he had with it like he had with Sahabat; its albinism set it apart from all the brown and black wyverns, and he had been drawn to that even at an early age. The main difference between Claude and his steed was that the other wyverns didn’t care what color Sahabat was.

Only a larger box that had been supporting the other packages remained. Claude leaned forward and opened it. He gasped again.

“I don’t know where to look first,” he said, looking at the book, the bundles of spices, the tea and coffee, the nuts and dried fruit, the… the _everything_. “There’s just so much.”

“I think you’ll find that book interesting.”

Claude picked up the book and opened it. “Recipes?” He paged through it, scanning some of the descriptions.

“It’s a little hard to get the cooks to write down what they have memorized. They’ve got all their secret techniques to get everything to taste just right. But your mother had an inkling you might be interested in trying your hand at it. She didn’t know whether you’d grown up to be a good cook or not, so it was a big gamble.”

Claude grinned. “This is great. Of course I want to give it a try.”

“Oh, good, so you _can_ cook. You won’t have to wait another few years to get your Almyran food.”

“Well, they _tried_ to make Almyran food in the monastery dining hall. Emphasis on ‘tried.’ But I wouldn’t trust an Almyran to make proper Fódlan cuisine either.”

“Point taken. You know I won’t be trying to cook anything from Fódlan, let alone Almyra anytime soon. I’m going to leave it to the expert.” He grinned at Claude.

“I’m no chef, but I _do_ know what this stuff is supposed to taste like.” He set the lid gently on the box, placing it back on the table. “Anyway, tell them I said thanks. This’ll keep me going for a while. Hopefully.”

“Of course. I wish your folks could have seen your face when you opened your gifts. Especially the blankie. That was classic!”

Claude rolled his eyes, but his smile didn’t fade. They fell quiet. Claude turned the colorful sash over in his hands, and thought about the cape Godfrey used to wear to the roundtable, the one he’d embroidered with the emblem of the Alliance, just like the jacket Claude wore so often now. It would look awfully nice together with the sash. Maybe he could use the cape to cover up one of those flashy pauldrons.

“Kiddo?”

Claude met Nader’s eyes. “Yes?”

“I should go back soon. You got your trip done, and I delivered the packages. It’s probably better if I head back as early as I can. That’ll give me more time to take the long way, and it’ll get me out of your hair.”

“If you have to. Seems like you just got here.”

“Look at all the stuff you have from home now. I don’t have to overstay my welcome. And you’ve got Judith. She’s much closer than I am.”

Claude sighed. No use trying to hide his feelings.

“Do you need me here another day?” Nader asked. Then, after some hesitation, “How are you feeling?”

“I was really happy to see you and Judith get along. It means so much to me. Getting to spend time with both you and her was something I never thought would happen.” He couldn’t say he’d never dreamed of it, for that, or something like it, had always been a part of his dream.

“And your talk with her went well? Seemed like you were doing better yesterday.”

He nodded. “She… opens my eyes to things I forget to think about.”

“We all need someone like that.”

“All the same, she doesn’t entirely get it. She knows what it’s like to miss home, but not in the way that I do. It’s the same way with all these things from Fódlan I’ve been showing you. I’d tell people about that stuff back home, and they’d think I’d gone nuts for enjoying it.”

“Hey. Kiddo.” Nader smiled. “Did you see me rolling my eyes at any of it?” His smile grew wider. “I had the time of my life!”

“Well, I’m glad Fódlan at least had a good impression on you. I mean—” Wait. That _was_ a really good thing. If Nader had had a good impression of Fódlan, and started telling his close friends about the things he’d seen while he’d been there, then maybe, _if_ they listened, then maybe—

Small things. Small changes. Little by little.

“That’s actually really encouraging to hear.”

“Yeah. I was surprised. I just came to check in on you. I wasn’t expecting the trip or meeting your teacher.”

“Well, how’s this for unexpected—making Almyran food in the heart of Fódlan?” He picked up the bag of rice and the spice bottles. “Come on. Give me a hand.”

—

Half an hour later when the smell of saffron still lingered in Claude’s nostrils, and he was still teary-eyed over how much it tasted like being a little kid sitting at the table surrounded by his father’s friends, he retreated back to his room, keeping the door half-cracked, and sat down at his desk, ready to write.

He looked at the letters set before him. After a moment of consideration, he pushed all of them aside except one. Only one of those people hadn’t been born in Fódlan. Only one of those people had ever led a country in his life. He readied his pen, about to set it to the paper, and stopped, turning toward Failnaught in the corner of the room.

He walked over to the bed, lifting the sash from the paper it had been wrapped in, and underneath it, the yellow baby blankie. He sighed softly, turning both over in his hands, then set them back down. He made his way over to Failnaught, lifting the bow and feeling it pulsing in his hands. Facing the mirror, he looked at himself, clad in a white shirt and black pants, his uncle’s black jacket (that he now had to wear open because he’d gained weight), freckles and bags underneath his green eyes, earring dangling from his ear.

He stood there for a little bit, looking at himself. Then he returned to his desk, pulled out a pencil, and started sketching. How hard could it be? Ignatz made it look effortless. Claude did not care whether his drawing was anatomically correct. He wanted to capture all the tiny details. Failnaught and its intricacies, the freckles on his face, his choppy hair, his lack of braids. The puffy white shirt and Godfrey’s Alliance jacket, and the Almyran sash that he added as an afterthought to match his earring.

An hour and a half, a few drafts, and a few more trips to the mirror later, he placed the drawing in Papa’s letter, folded the paper shut over the drawing, and placed it inside the envelope. That would tell him everything he wanted to know about his son, and would say everything his son wanted to tell him.

After that, he finished the letter to his mother and gave both letters to Nader. Nader showed him how to wrap the sash, and Claude put the pauldrons away with Failnaught, hanging up the sash in his wardrobe and stowing the baby blanket in his desk drawer.

The next morning, he went outside into the cold, foggy dawn with Failnaught in hand. Yesterday was the first he had picked it up since his grandfather’s death. The Relic was part of his lineage for a reason, and just like the sash, he knew it belonged with him. So he did a little target practice. The thing was still unwieldy, and its pulse threw him for a moment. But when he was working in tandem with it, its pulse seemed to line up with his. It was freaky, especially the arrows materializing from nothing, but he liked the feeling, somehow.

With Failnaught slung over his back, he walked around the house to the garden. The gardener had been busy at work for the past three years, and he hadn’t appreciated the upkeep enough. The garden had mostly been for Grandpa and Godfrey anyway, for whom Claude now gathered flowers. When he had a sufficient bouquet in hand, he turned around and made for the cemetery where his ancestors slept. He was bending in front of Godfrey’s grave with lilies and roses when he heard footsteps behind him.

Setting the flowers down, he stood up and turned to face his mentor.

“I’m sorry to leave so soon,” Nader said.

“There’s no reason to apologize,” Claude replied. “I got way more accomplished in the past few days than I have in weeks. Thank you.”

Nader smiled. “I’m glad.”

Claude walked up to him, offering his hand for a handshake, which Nader met. Then he embraced him. When he let go, he walked back toward the grave, then turned to face Nader again.

“I want you to come back here in two years.”

“I can’t promise anything, but I’ll try.”

“You’d better try hard. I might need your help then. And there’s someone else you have to meet.”

“I’ll see what I can do. Hang in there, kiddo.”

“Will do.”

They bid each other goodbye, and Nader walked away, making his way toward the trees flanking the Riegan estate.

A few minutes after he disappeared, Claude picked up the flowers and set the rest of them on Godfrey and Eugene’s graves. Standing up, he looked skyward at the waxing crescent moon. He took a deep breath, in and out. His shoulders felt light. When he turned toward where Nader had gone, a buck emerged from the brush, staring at Claude with wide brown eyes, antlers reaching toward the heavens, a benediction.

Claude smiled, a genuine, wide smile.

“Don’t worry about me,” he told the buck. “I know I can do it.”


End file.
